


New Message

by ana again (johneggmcmuffin)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Major Character Injury, disclaimer: seung-gil and phichit do not abuse each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9975317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johneggmcmuffin/pseuds/ana%20again
Summary: Seung-gil Lee was never one to answer his phone constantly, checking notifications and scrolling his social media accounts every few minutes. He didn’t really have an interest in that sort of thing. In fact, the only reason he had created his Instagram account was to keep a good reputation as a young figure-skater who posted about his life for his fans to see. His coach, Minso Park, convinced him to. At first, he was confident in his refusal. But after Park threatened to open one anyway under his name, he quickly obliged.Minso Park.Not the greatest woman he had ever met.Seung-gil, despite his aversion to his phone, was now fully concentrated on sending a text message.To who?A Thai ice-skater named Phichit Chulanont.Why was this conversation happening?Seung-gil was stuck in bed. Literally.Well, not literally.His lung had collapsed two days prior.





	1. Deeper Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yuri!!! on Ice or any of its characters. (Do I still have to put this? It's been so long since I've published anything.)
> 
> This fic is basically just me placing a bunch of headcanons onto Seung-gil since we barely got to know him in the actual show. (#JusticeforSeunggil please I'm dying)  
> I hope this doesn't seem too out of character for him! I also love the idea of a romantic relationship between Seung-gil and Phichit. (lies down and cries)  
> I hope that you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: I made the spacing a bit different. I hope that makes it easier to read!

Seung-gil Lee was never one to answer his phone constantly, checking notifications and scrolling his social media accounts every few minutes. He didn’t really have an interest in that sort of thing. In fact, the only reason he had created his Instagram account was to keep a good reputation as a young figure skater who posted about his life for his fans to see. His coach, Minso Park, convinced him to. At first, he was confident in his refusal. But after Park threatened to open one anyway under his name, he quickly obliged.

Minso Park.

Not the greatest woman he had ever met.

People seemed to think he hated women.

He didn’t. 

He just felt…uncomfortable, for some reason.

But that was a story for another time. Another time to be set aside to recollect his past.

Anyway, Seung-gil, despite his aversion to his phone, was now fully concentrated on sending a text message.

To who?

A Thai ice-skater named Phichit Chulanont.

Why was this conversation happening?

Seung-gil was stuck in bed. Literally.

Well, not literally.

But he really didn’t want to move at all, because the tube inserted into his body would move as well, and it felt somewhat like a worm crawling into his body. It was not a very pleasant feeling.

His lung had collapsed two days prior.

It was unexpected. He had spent hours searching up symptoms online, even though he knew it would get him nowhere, in an attempt to find the cause. He had listened keenly to his doctor’s explanation. He didn’t seem to fit the factors that put him more at risk for a non-traumatic pneumothorax. When he brought it up at the hospital, his doctor simply shrugged and said that some cases were simply anomalies.

He was an anomaly in that moment.

It was his right lung that been affected. But the skating season was over, for now, so thankfully there weren’t any competitions to worry about. Minso Park would have definitely thrown a larger fit had it happened a few months prior.

He kept thinking back to the afternoon when the slight, groaning pain in his chest suddenly escalated to the feeling that a sharp knife was being shoved into his body. It was scary, he could admit. He was usually so careful to keep his body in top shape. He had a weekly schedule at the gym, a dry erase board with meal plans neatly written on, and a coach who was not afraid to knock his door down if he were to become ill.

But despite these reminders, Seung-gil was still at home, unable to skate. He felt useless, just sitting there. And not even lying down. He was advised to sit up so that his lung would inflate more quickly. The doctor sent him home with the tube still in his side. He wasn’t sure why. But he couldn’t really think about it too hard, being a bit delirious from both pain and pain medicine.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

“Hello???”

Seung-gil blinked. He hadn’t answered for five minutes. Did Phichit have enough free time to be sending messages back and forth so frequently? Or did he have super multitasking skills that allowed him to skate and text at the same time?

He was supposed to answer a text from Phichit that read, “Are you still in pain?”

“Sorry. Yes, I’m still in pain. But it isn’t as bad as before.” Seung-gil typed into his phone. He took a deep breath and felt the tube move. His fingers accidentally skidded across the keyboard, so a random X was added to the message and was immediately sent.

The conversation had actually started the day before when the other boy texted him with a “Hey! :]” 

Seung-gil had been in contact with Phichit for a while, now. Phichit was the one to initiate the interaction over Instagram. They bonded over a love for dogs, and for ice skating, of course. Phichit complimented Seung-gil on his routine at last year’s Grand Prix Final. Seung-gil was hoping that everyone had forgotten about it. Minso Park wouldn’t let him live it down for months.

After a screw-up in practice, she would shout something across the rink such as, “You’re going to fail like you did last year in that costume!” or “Please do something right, for once, and listen to me!”

Seung-gil figured she was right, he should’ve stuck to his darker, mysterious image.

But still, he had fun with his mambo.

Seung-gil groaned to himself. Ice-skating is his job, not his hobby. He had to concentrate on being the best he could be. If being the best meant giving up a silly wish, then he would have to do so.

The medical emergency at hand was doing nothing to remedy his motivation to stick to this idea, however.

Back to Phichit.

Seung-gil told Phichit about his lung. He didn’t know why. He was usually opposed to disclosing such private information. What benefit would it give him to share these things with others? Sympathy? Pity? He didn’t want either of those.

But he still told him.

He was having a hard time following his agendas, lately.

Maybe it was Phichit’s cheerful tone when messaging.

They haven’t called one another yet. It had only been two months.

Phichit’s message arrived.

“Oh my god!! I’m so sorry!! :[[ I wish I could help. O" 

Seung-gil squinted at his phone, even though he didn’t need glasses.

“What’s with the ‘O’?”

“You sent an ‘X’! I wanted to return the favor!” 

Seung-gil sighed.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t until two hours later that Seung-gil realized that the “X” he accidentally sent represented a “kiss.”

* * *

 

Minso Park came to take him back to the hospital two days later. She knocked on the door ten minutes prior to schedule. You would think that Seung-gil was used to her routine by now. But he still jolted upright whenever she surprised him at the door like that. (The jolt this time around led to a few seconds of wheezing for Seung-gil.)

He called over Jae, his Siberian Husky, who lightly padded towards his bedside. The sound always calmed Seung-gil and made him smile a bit at the dog. He reached over to his nightstand to retrieve his house key, a spare one. Seung-gil placed the key onto Jae’s collar and jerked his head twice towards the exit to his bedroom. Jae obediently left the room.

Seung-gil could hear the padding of Jae’s steps again, then the jingle of the key being placed onto the floor. Then the swiping of the key under the door, the gasp that came out of Minso Park’s mouth, and the shaking of the door’s knob as it was opened.

Seung-gil sat up in bed, felt the tube again, and shuddered. He could have it for another year, and he still wouldn’t get used to the feeling. 

Minso Park stepped into Seung-gil’s tiny apartment and called out his name. Seung-gil shouted from his bedroom, which brought pain, but she wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t.

She entered his room with the key in his hand. She told him that it was a good trick, but to avoid getting slobber on the key next time. Seung-gil nodded.

They both silently maneuvered around the room, picking up essentials and Minso helping Seung-gil up from his bed. He tenderly walked out of his room, dizzy but unwilling to ask for assistance. Minso Park sped into his living room/kitchen area, grabbing her purse and Seung-gil’s backpack.

She told him to speed it up a bit, that it shouldn’t hurt that much. Seung-gil didn’t have the energy to fight with her about it. He just stumbled along the hardwood floor, slipping on his sneakers and following her outside into the cold, biting winter air.

 


	2. Hospital View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seung-gil receives some bad news. Phichit is there to support. Minso Park arrives and brings back memories of a happier time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support so far! It makes me much more confident with my writing! I hope you enjoy this chapter! A bit angsty...I love my angst.
> 
> (Time has been making it more difficult to work on this fic. I'll try not to take too long to get chapters through, but I can't make any promises.)

“I have to get surgery.” Seung-gil typed into the chat. Somehow, his fingers had managed to stay steady despite his absolute terror at the thought of having his life be dependent on some stranger with sharp tools. Well, a stranger who was a professional, but a stranger nonetheless.

It was mid-morning. The procedure was to take place sometime after noon.

“What?!!!!” Phichit sent back in seconds. His speed really did amaze Seung-gil. “I was hoping it wouldn’t lead up to this…”

“Same here,” Seung-gil replied bluntly.

The hospital had conducted a series of tests to check if Seung-gil’s right lung had inflated. Unfortunately, it hadn’t. The collapse was more severe than they’d thought. It would be necessary to repair the leak in his lung.

A leaking lung. That kind of wording made Seung-gil feel like a faucet that continuously dripped with no control. Faulty and in need of a patch-up.  

As the doctor spoke of the surgery in further detail, Seung-gil attempted to concentrate. But his eyes could only focus on the tongue depressors stored in a glass jar on the doctor’s desk. His mind quickly wandered away.

The exact incisions, the length it would take for each one. The latex gloves they would use, the supplier that the hospital bought them from. The alloy metal used in the operating table. The amount of oxygen he would inhale over the course of the surgery. These things he envisioned as a way to cope with the fear creeping at the back of his mind.

But a cluster of sentences shook Seung-gil out of his thoughts. The doctor had paused to scribble some notes onto a nearby writing pad. He had spoken them so nonchalantly as if he had just described the weather outside.

Cloudy. Cold. Maybe a blizzard later, who knows.

With each movement of the doctor’s arm to a new line, the words kept blaring in his mind.

“You can’t skate.”

Of course, he knew that. He knew damn well he couldn’t skate at the moment.

But according to the doctor, he wouldn’t be able to skate competitively for at least three months after the surgery.

This was when Seung-gil felt the creeping fear begin to fog up his mind. His head felt as if it gained a million more pounds.

The next competition was to take place in five months’ time. The two months out of recovery could not be nearly enough time to perfect one routine, let alone two.

The tongue depressors were still on the desk.

Only two months to prepare for the next competition. The music and the choreography were just now being decided. And how Seung-gil would have to watch from the bleachers as his rink mates skidded around the ice. He’d have to paint his thoughts with his moves. It wasn’t impossible, but he knew quite well that performing the action was much different than simply thinking it. 

He also knew that his coach was going to have a legendary fit over this. He could hear her stomping down the hallway, the imagined knocking of her heels against the tile floor making a shiver travel down Seung-gil’s spine. 

Right as it happened, Minso actually did appear. Her phone was shoved between her shoulder and her cheek as she entered the room with an undoubted air of authority. And as she came in, the door slammed against a nearby scale. The equipment shook noisily and Seung-gil couldn’t stop himself from visibly wincing as it screeched against the floor.

She asked the doctor if it was really surgery Seung-gil needed, if it was _really_ , _absolutely_ necessary. The doctor, clearly intimidated, nodded silently. He glanced at Seung-gil, his eyes asking what Minso wanted from him. Seung-gil could only give the slightest shrug.

Minso ended her call as she exclaimed that she couldn’t believe it, that she needed to sit in order to collect herself. The doctor stood and brought over a lone chair from the side of the room. But Minso paid him no attention nor did she thank him. She was instead staring at Seung-gil as if she had genuinely expected him to rise out of his hospital bed, IV and tube in all, to retrieve it instead. 

She asked Seung-gil what his mother would think when she heard of these devastating news. As if it were his fault that he was unable to breathe without an oxygen tube at the moment. He had practiced just as diligently as Minso asked, slamming into various parts of the rink when a run didn’t go well, nursing the bruises for weeks. He had faithfully followed her instructions. For the most part.

“I don’t know what she’d think.” Seung-gil finally responded, a bit of annoyance appearing in his voice. “If you let me contact her more often, then maybe I would.”

Minso’s lips suddenly grew smaller as they curled into her mouth. Her chin was jutting out slightly. Anger and humiliation were what she probably felt.  At that realization, Seung-gil felt regret.

Minso turned back to the doctor and spoke with a strained voice. She asked to speak to Seung-gil privately. The doctor began to object, for he hadn’t finished his explanation. But she cut him off with a voice so sour the tongue depressors seemed to blacken at their edges. The doctor immediately said to Seung-gil that he would finish speaking to him later. He then promptly left the room. The door slammed again, though Seung-gil couldn’t hear it this time around.

He could hear someone break into a run down the hall.

Minso didn’t speak a word at first. She gazed around the room. Seung-gil wanted to believe that she was simply judging the curtains or the placement of the furniture. But once her eyes settled back onto him, he could sense her disgust with him.

He couldn’t keep eye contact with her like this and not once was he ever successful in his attempts to. He turned his face away from her. Anything to keep safe from that stare.

She told him that he wasn’t supposed to say such things, that she let him speak plenty with his mother, remember? The last phone call was two days ago, remember?

Seung-gil remained silent.

The phone call was two _weeks_ ago. He knew why.

Contact between him and his mother had been limited for a while.

Minso likely suspected that Seung-gil would tell his mother unpleasant things when given the chance. His coach was clever, something Seung-gil had first admired about her. She always had an effective, biting comment. In his early days with her as his coach, he had admittedly enjoyed watching her dish out insults at an incredible speed whenever someone had the nerve to criticize him.

It really was no wonder that Seung-gil’s mother gladly signed the contract for him when he was fifteen-years-old and ready to embark on his future career. Minso was always poised, extremely observant, and had a charming smile. He still remembered the warmness radiating from Minso when she first arrived on the Lee household’s front step. It was winter then, too, and snowflakes gathered onto Minso’s long, brown locks gave her a softer appearance. It seemed that she would be able to watch over Seung-gil well.

Seung-gil thought his mother had made the right choice.

Seung-gil’s mother had put her utmost effort into finding a suitable coach for him. She had such a difficult time doing so, mainly because it was even _harder_ for her to accept that her son wanted to figure skate as a career. He was so well-versed with numbers and calculations that she was sure he would pursue mathematics or the sciences instead. But Seung-gil would always ask to visit the skating rink whenever he wasn’t studying, often returning with a large smile despite a few new marks from injuries. He began designing costumes in sketch books his mother found strewn around the house, showing her how certain elements would enhance his speed or the height of his jumps. It was a passion she wouldn’t be able to steer him away from.

It shouldn’t have been such a shocking revelation. Seung-gil’s mother had always expressed her love for figure skaters whenever they appeared on TV, motioning her son to come over and watch them with her. But she still never really imagined that her son would end up wanting to jump and spin and pose and do all of the things she had admired. He wanted to pursue skating and she wished to make him happy. She was willing to do anything to see Seung-gil’s smile brighten up.

So, she signed the contract with Minso Park. And off Seung-gil went.

Minso loudly asked if he was listening. Seung-gil nodded automatically, still not turned towards her. This was a regular routine by now. She muttered something to herself. Probably about Seung-gil’s lack of an attention span.

He would listen sometimes. He really would. But whenever words came out of her mouth like an overflowing stream filled with insults and accusations, he just couldn’t concentrate. His mind would helplessly wander again. It was never fun to be at the receiving end of Minso’s fury.

Perhaps he should start borrowing a few college textbooks to study from. Research online college courses. His current career was currently seeming to slip through his grasp, anyway, and suddenly it didn’t sound too bad to become an engineer or something.

At some point, Minso eventually gave up on trying to lecture him again. One last string of short insults and she was gone. He still couldn’t hear the door, though it may just have been the next dosage of medicine affecting his senses.

Seung-gil saw the empty chair covered with bits of faux fur. He could still feel her presence, not unlike a snake coiling itself around his body. But somehow the feeling was worse than that of his lung fighting to inflate itself again.

* * *

 The surgery went well.

“As expected,” the doctor told Seung-gil with a small smile.

It was past noon. Much past noon. Seung-gil knew that much. Dusk was approaching. The sun’s final performance of the day was beginning to break through the gray skies of the earlier afternoon. Seung-gil was a few hours into recovery. A buzz at his bedside alerted him of another text. It had to be from Phichit.

And indeed, it was.

“How did it go? I’m guessing you had the surgery since you haven’t texted me in like five hours…LOL :P”

“Sorry. It went well.” Seung-gil replied as he held his phone ridiculously close to his face in order to see the screen properly. His vision was still unfocused.

“I was wondering who’s going to take care of you while you’re recovering?” Phichit sent. “Anyone you know?”

A few seconds passed before another message came through. “Not that I’ve really put thought into or anything.”

Seung-gil had just finished reading the first text when yet another one popped up.

“I just wanted to know. For reasons.”

Seung-gil blinked, his thumbs wavering over the keyboard. Seriously, how did Phichit type so fast?

“I’ll mostly be alone. My coach is busy and my rink mates aren’t that close to me. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” It took him five painstaking minutes to send that.

Silence for more than a minute.

“Okay.”

Seung-gil frowned. He locked and unlocked his phone. Closed and reopened the messaging app. Checked his network settings. It wasn’t like Phichit to suddenly send a blunt message. Maybe his phone glitched?

“But would you be okay if someone were to come over to take care of you for a week or so?” Phichit sent after what seemed like an eternity. It had only been three minutes.

Seung-gil tossed around the idea in his mind. Would he?

He was used to handling things alone. He had been doing so for the longest time.

But something stirred within him, something like annoyance, fear, hope, and excitement all blended into an indescribable feeling that made his heart thump a bit faster.

He hesitated before sending his next text.

“I guess I would. Why?”

“Cool! :]” Phichit was using his favorite emoticon again. Seung-gil wanted to chuckle, but his body just wouldn’t let him. The patched-up lung didn’t want to offer him that joy just yet, gravity seeming to place a larger force onto his chest. He let out a strange noise, something like a “Heeeeeee.” Low and long. His slight happiness from the message made him forget that Phichit never answered his final question.

The sun sunk down beyond the skyscrapers of Seoul. The clouds were still brilliantly vivid, but Seung-gil knew that their colors would grow more pallid as the minutes passed by.

His last thought before surrendering to sleep was of Phichit petting Jae, rolling him over and beckoning Seung-gil to join them with a large smile and a wave.


	3. Visiting Hours are Extended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seung-gil comes back home, and an unexpected guest arrives. (Well, you probably expected it.)

Four days were spent recovering in the hospital. Seung-gil had already grown accustomed to the muted flavors of hospital food and the discomfort of having tests conducted on him when the doctor told him that he was permitted to return home.

Now, instead of being bedridden under the watchful eye of the hospital staff, he returned to being bedridden in the comfort of his own home.

His departing gifts were a large bandage covering his wounds and a small teddy bear given to him by a nurse. She had recognized him from TV and even said that her daughter was a big fan. She didn’t follow the sport as avidly as her daughter, but she wanted to show her support regardless. Her kindness was enough for Seung-gil to give her a smile. He had covered it up with a hand in shock, but the nurse asked him for a photo. She said his smile was radiant and to not be ashamed of it.

The smile slid off of his face after that. It was always fleeting. He knew the woman simply wanted to show her love for her daughter, but he had to refuse.

Seung-gil thought of a comment on one of his social media posts as the woman was leaving the room. Her shoulders sagged slightly. Her bright attitude faded, completely overshadowed by Seung-gil’s perceived rudeness as the door closed timidly behind her. She never told him her name.

He’d probably never see her again.

“Why don’t you do fan service? Do you hate your fans or something? So cold…”

For one thing, Minso wouldn’t allow it. She knew Seung-gil’s personality well and said his coldness was a charm he could build a fan base from.

And, Minso’s almighty opinion set aside, Seung-gil himself disliked the idea of him doing such things.  

But this incident wasn’t fan service. The nurse just honest-to-god wanted a photograph to share with her daughter. But Seung-gil still refused. Perhaps he was paranoid that the daughter would post the picture online, and everyone could see his bad condition. He could definitely get in trouble for that.

But the guilt still shrouded his fears. The nurse’s daughter might hate him now. It was understandable after this. 

He loved his fans. He really did. He was grateful for every like on his posts, for every cheering person in the stands, and for all the love he had received.

What happened in the hospital wasn’t much evidence of that, however.

A buzz on his sheets returned Seung-gil to the quiet stillness of his bedroom. He blinked. He was staring at the TV. It was flipped to a channel showing a daytime drama. It was one with not-so-good ratings, with but enough intensity to latch onto a viewer’s curiosity so that they’d watch another episode. It took him a moment to realize that he couldn’t hear anything the onscreen couple was arguing about. He unmuted the TV. 

The last two days had been mind-numbingly boring.

Hours of petting Jae and going through the entire channel list several times did nothing to distract Seung-gil from his worries. He had tried to log onto his laptop this morning, but his fingers failed to cooperate with him. So, for now, it was shoved towards the end of his bed, probably collecting dust.

He couldn’t even lift his arm up to play fetch with Jae. The dog would come in at random intervals throughout the day holding a tennis ball in his mouth. But Seung-gil could only give a sad, crooked half-smile and smooth his hand over Jae’s luscious coat of fur again and again.

It was approximately noon. Seung-gil sighed. He should eat something, he thought, before cautiously lifting himself from his bed to heat up one of the several prepped meals he had stored prior to the surgery. Some were stuffed into the fridge, though most were frozen. He had run out of fridge containers, so he grabbed a plastic container from the freezer, goosebumps spreading on his arms as the cold air escaped.

He was grateful for his random decision one day to move the microwave right nearby the fridge. He didn’t have to stagger across the room to eat, which was ideal since his side was aching still, even just to take a deep breath. He placed the container in the microwave, pressed some buttons, and waited for the device to ding.

Slouching at the table to eat his lunch (which the doctor strictly told him _not_ to do), Seung-gil thought about the amount of time already lost due to his current state.

Practice. He needed to practice. He couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to do much when his mind wanted so much more. He fixed his posture so that his back was straight. The simple movement made him tired. This was as much as his body could take for now. 

Seung-gil finished his meal slowly. It was hard to get a full breath in and eat at the same time. He would have to hold his breath for at least thirty seconds as he chewed. He wondered if that counted as those breathing exercises his doctor recommended to do daily while recovering. 

It felt like an eternity before he was finished. He immediately gravitated back towards his bed, ready to fall asleep and forget that he had basically nothing decided about his free skate. The short program was fully planned out: the costume, makeup, and the choreography, of course. The problem with that was that he needed to practice.

Hiding under his covers, Seung-gil sneaked a glance at the teddy bear. He wondered what the nurse would say about him to her daughter. He hoped he hadn’t ruined figure skating for her. 

Just as he turned away from the nightstand, Seung-gil spotted his phone. Oh, yeah. It had buzzed earlier, hadn’t it? 

It was Phichit. Seung-gil shouldn’t have been so surprised. But his fingers still trembled as they lifted the phone from the bed. 

“It sure is cold outside, right?”

Seung-gil raised an eyebrow at the message. How did they go from talking about applying eye makeup to the weather?

Maybe it was simply how conversations were supposed to go. Maybe they were supposed to slip and slide through different topics without much thought on how the points connected. Maybe the original points would eventually connect across the distance of tangents.

Seung-gil hoped it would. He had an uneasy feeling creeping in the back of his mind.

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t know it was cold right now in Thailand too.” He sent back, setting the phone down to fall asleep again. He was really into sleeping a lot these days.

But it buzzed yet again before he could lay his head back down on the pillow. Seung-gil felt a twinge of annoyance. This conversation was beginning to feel like a nuisance.

“I’m not in Thailand, actually! :0”

Seung-gil lifted his eyes from the phone, looking at the teddy bear again, silently asking if it knew the answers to all of his questions. Why was Phichit acting so mysterious?

“Then where are you?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Sorry, I’m omw!”

Seung-gil didn’t know how to reply to that. It wasn’t a strange thing to say. Where was Phichit on his way to? Was he texting while walking? Didn’t he know how dangerous that was?

He groaned to himself. Jae peeked his head in through the doorway where he had been chewing on a tattered rope.

Phichit was being ridiculously mysterious. It wasn’t like him. Or perhaps Seung-gil didn’t know him well enough to know of this mysterious side.

Is this how others felt when they spoke to Seung-gil?

No, this suspicious behavior was definitely forced. For Seung-gil, it came naturally.

His annoyance quickly dissolved as he finally laid his head on his pillow, giving himself into the temptation of a long nap.

* * *

A knock at the door stunned him awake. 

Correction: It was Jae’s barking as a result of said knock that woke Seung-gil.

He hadn’t expected to face Minso again already. But after a second thought, registering the knock again, he realized that it couldn’t be her at the door. The knock was soft, almost timid. Seung-gil pictured a lost child trying to see if they had found the right door to their home. Maybe the child had gotten lost. Maybe the child was lost because they couldn’t find the house their family just moved into.

Seung-gil wasn’t feeling so poorly that he couldn’t open the door himself if he wanted. But laziness hand-in-hand with exhaustion from his trip to the kitchen convinced him to hand the deed to Jae instead. The dog happily took on the task and almost bit Seung-gil’s hand out of excitement while grabbing the key.

Jae was normally energetic, so Seung-gil didn’t think twice of this behavior.

Seung-gil held his breath, all of the sounds in the apartment fading away as he waited for Jae to make it to the door. There was the familiar scratching on the hardwood floor as Jae slid the key with his paw under the door.

Someone shouted “Woah!” in English and laughed. They kept on laughing as they opened the door. Seung-gil could hear Jae tapping his feet on the floor joyously, the bell of his collar jingling like Santa had just arrived.

Above the noise, Seung-gil heard the ruffling of bags. Did Minso get someone to deliver groceries for him? That would be awfully nice of her.

“Seung-gil?”

Seung-gil’s thoughts stopped in their tracks.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

It was the medicine. The painkillers were making him imagine that person’s voice. The whole thing, it was a dream. A simple dream. Any moment now, he could wake up and see the arguing couple on TV again.

They had never talked on the phone, but Seung-gil remembered the voice from numerous television interviews clear as day.

It was Phichit who was calling his name. No doubt about it.

Seung-gil pinched himself on the elbow. _Wake up. Wake up._

“Hey, doggy!” He heard Phichit say happily. Jae barked softly in response, which made Seung-gil realize that he had been holding his breath for much too long. He immediately exhaled, then just as quickly inhaled. The gasping was too quick, air lighting his nasal passages and throat on fire, the burning sensation throwing him into a coughing fit.

He wished he hadn’t done that. Phichit immediately ran into his room, a dozen bags hanging from his arms and all, to see Seung-gil’s body bent over and shaking.

“Are you okay?!” Phichit shouted as he dropped all of his bags onto the floor, the mass of which created a loud thump onto the floor. He came close to Seung-gil’s bedside with not even a second glance at the pile.

Seung-gil was unable to respond to Phichit’s question. He weakly pointed his finger at the water bottle on his nightstand. Phichit grabbed and uncapped it, then held it to Seung-gil’s mouth.

Seung-gil would have rather declined the gesture. But being able to breathe was a greater priority then. He swallowed his pride, as well as half the bottle. A few moments later, he was able to catch his breath again.

“I’m fine,” Seung-gil said finally. He was still wheezing slightly, water dribbling down his chin. Phichit gave him a questionable look. Seung-gil wiped his face.

“Oh my god, don’t scare me like that again, okay?” Phichit wiped his brow and pulled down the mask covering his face. There was the tiniest remnant of a sore at the bottom corner of his lower lip. But he had a very nice pair of lips overall. Plump and pale from the cold.

Seung-gil shut his eyes, embarrassed about the ordeal and worried that he’d been staring at Phichit’s lips for too long. “Are you seriously telling me this while you just decided to appear out of nowhere at my front door?”

“It wasn’t _exactly_ out of nowhere.”

Seung-gil groaned, pinching the skin between his eyebrows.

“I dropped hints, you know!” Phichit laughed nervously, not exactly sure how to diffuse the obvious annoyance radiating from Seung-gil. “Although I admit, they were a bit vague.”

Seung-gil opened his eyes again slowly, groggily. Focusing again on Phichit’s face took some effort.

“I _did_ want to give you a surprise…” Phichit offered a smile, which then quickly turned into a small frown. His sore looked close to healing, but any sudden movements would surely cause irritation.

A momentary silence fell between them.

Phichit sighed, tugging the mask on his chin with a finger. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to leave?”

Seung-gil had to contemplate the question. He had probably made Phichit feel even worse, but he needed to plan his next words, his next actions, carefully. Having Phichit over for a few days sounded strangely ideal to him. But allowing Phichit to stay could also prove to be detrimental to the both of them.

Why was Phichit here? Surely, it couldn’t just be to take care of Seung-gil, right? Did his coach know about this? There was no way he’d let Phichit fly off to Seoul when he was needed at his home rink. Minso would most definitely not approve of Seung-gil doing the same.

Seung-gil licked his lips. Upon realizing that they were quite chapped, he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. If things continued like so, Seung-gil would end up drowning in his own foolishness.

He felt the floor sink beneath his bed.

“You’re already here, so you might as well stay for a bit. I just wanted to know _why_.”

“Why?” Phichit asked curiously, attempting to look inquisitive and concerned, but he was unable to hide the joy in his voice.

“Don’t you have important things to prepare for, too? Things much more important than visiting me of all people?”

_Way to be gentle._

“Because I wanted to give you my support!” There was not a single sign of hesitation when Phichit spoke. Not a glance to the side nor did his voice waver. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“Friends?” Seung-gil asked, his voice sounding much softer than he had intended. Phichit’s unwavering confidence in his answer made Seung-gil want to retreat back under the covers and restart the entire day over again. Phichit was clearly putting his utmost effort to help Seung-gil recover, even if that meant jeopardizing his chance at improving his sport.

He wished that time-travel existed. With the pull of a lever or a tap on his wrist, Seung-gil would be able to change his path so effortlessly.

Alas, it was a doomed dream. He had read numerous articles on how changing things in the past would do nothing to solve the present. His small grasp on reality would change entirely, what joys and pains felt would be pushed onto unexplored possibilities. It could be worse, it could be better. Likely, it would be worse.

Phichit was still speaking.

_Pay attention._

“Is that the right word for our relationship?” Phichit placed a finger on his chin. “Or would it be just mutuals? Acquaintances? Colleagues?”

“Being friends is fine,” Seung-gil said before Phichit could list any more options. “I’d say that we’re friends.”

“Oh, good! I’m really glad you think so, too.” Phichit let his full grin shine. It was so bright, suddenly, in Seung-gil’s dim room.

Phichit began to gather his bags from the floor. “I’ll drop this stuff outside before getting dinner started. Sorry for bringing this all in!” He looked like he was going to topple over with all the bags on his arms again.

“It’s fine- Wait, dinner?” Seung-gil propped himself up with an elbow.

He still couldn’t quite believe that Phichit Chulanont was inside of his bedroom. It wasn’t a star struck feeling, but more of an “I have someone who is willing to come over to my house to see me?” sort of feeling.

And this Phichit was his _friend_. Who was offering to _cook dinner_.

Phichit, not seeming to hear Seung-gil, exited the room momentarily. He whistled a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. It might’ve been a nursery rhyme. Who knew?

When Phichit returned, he had a small box in his hands. Seung-gil craned his neck to see it more clearly, even though Phichit was walking in his direction anyway.

“A present?” Seung-gil shifted so that he sat more upright.

“For you!” Phichit held out package for Seung-gil. Seung-gil nearly dropped the box once its weight was on his hands. It was much heavier than expected.

“May I?” Phichit glanced at the bed. Seung-gil nodded silently and Phichit happily sat on it.

The box was beige, like old parchment paper. Its opening was a simple flap, but the sides were so heavily taped that whatever was inside would have no chance of an effortless escape.

Seung-gil struggled to open the package on his own. With all of that tape, Phichit had to scour the rooms for a scissor to cut through it all.

The unboxing continued. At first, Seung-gil could only see a giant block of styrofoam. He pulled the styrofoam out to reveal a jewel-encrusted bird wrapped in plastic. Seung-gil almost didn’t want to unwrap it. The bird simply looked too peaceful. But the restless glances Phichit gave convinced Seung-gil to free the bird from the packaging.

The jewels on its wings sparkled, even in the dim light. Its body was painted blue with green and purple wings that glittered. The tail was red while the very tip was the same purple as the wings. With the second look over, Seung-gil noticed that the bird was perched on top of a nest with three eggs.

“I chose the bird as a little memento of your short program at the Rostelecom Cup!” Phichit spoke after they’d spent a few moments admiring the bird in silence. “I told you that I really liked it, right?”

Seung-gil nodded. He was stroking the statue with one finger, feeling each jewel on its wings delicately. When he finished, he lifted his head up, his eyes locked onto Phichit’s own. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

A red tint flushed on the apples of Phichit’s cheeks. “It’s no problem! I was hoping you’d like it!”

“I do. I really do.”

“What were you doing before I got here, anyway?” Phichit asked, helping Seung-gil place the bird gently on his nightstand. It stood up on its own, reflecting the light peering from the window as it perched silently.

“Napping,” Seung-gil admitted as he failed to stifle a yawn.

“Are you still tired? You can sleep more while I get settled in!” Phichit suggested.

“Sure.” And just like that, Seung-gil’s eyelids were like heavy weights, unable to keep themselves open.

“I’ll make sure to not move things around too much! I’ll pay for anything I break!” Phichit’s voice sounded like it was coming from out of the room, though Seung-gil could still feel his weight on the bed.

“Okay.” He mumbled, head falling to the side of his pillow. He decided to open one eye just to see Phichit’s face one more time.

“Dinner’s going to be super good! The flavors will pack a real punch!” Phichit held his fists close to his face, like a boxer would, and took a swipe at the nearby air.

“Mmhm.” Seung-gil hummed contently. He felt a twinge at the corners of his lips. The muscles around that area stung slightly, but he didn’t care at all.

Phichit gazed at him with pure joy, at seeing the tiniest smile form on Seung-gil’s face as he surrendered to sleep once again.

* * *

Seung-gil woke up…he wasn’t sure how much later. But it was sunset again. The yellow-orange light shining through his curtains showed that much. 

He hadn’t dreamed. He usually did.

From another restful nap, he had awoken to the sound of oil sizzling in a pan and the sight of smoke coming from outside of his room. He squinted where his door was swung open. Phichit poked his head into the room, giving Seung-gil a bit of a shock.

“How’d you sleep?” Phichit grinned, equipped with an apron and a spatula in his hand. Another billow of smoke appeared behind him.

“Fine,” Seung-gil said, shifting into a seated position. He could feel Phichit’s eyes on him as he rubbed his face with his hands. “Are you cooking?”

Phichit giggled. “I said I was going to cook dinner for you…But you were probably close to knocking out.”

“Oh,” Seung-gil felt a sudden flash of heat in his face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine!” Phichit grinned just as an alarm began to blare. Both of them winced and Phichit cupped an ear with his free hand. “Don’t move, I’ll handle it!” He ran out of sight.

Seung-gil sighed. He didn’t know how to feel, exactly. He was definitely grateful for Phichit’s kindness and efforts. But he also felt pathetic for needing help. He was supposed to be an adult fully capable of taking care of himself.

But here he was. The alarm stopped its nagging.

Phichit returned to Seung-gil’s bedroom with a grin and a plate filled with something that smelled absolutely delicious.

“Looks appetizing.” He commented as Phichit waved the smoke away with a dishtowel. “It’s a very good presentation. Especially the color.”

Phichit looked away, trying to hide his laughter. “Do you watch cooking competition shows?”

Seung-gil paused. “Yes. I’ve been watching a lot of them, lately.”

“Well, thanks! It’s a recipe from home!” He brought forth a pair of chopsticks out from the apron’s pocket. “Have you ever had it?”

“No,” Seung-gil said bluntly as he grasped the utensils. “How many calories are in this?”

Phichit made a high-pitched, “Ehhh…”

He giggled. “More than I think you’d like, but we’ll keep things in moderation! Let’s just celebrate today!”

Seung-gil suddenly remembered.

“I had a meal prepped in the freezer. You could’ve taken one, too.” Seung-gil blurted out.

Why did he say that? Now Phichit was going to feel bad, and Seung-gil was going to have to rush apologies-

“Sorry, I just got a little excited about making something for you.”

Seung-gil blinked. “It’s fine. I should’ve told you beforehand.”

“It’s fine, seriously!” Phichit gave Seung-gil another smile.

“Are you sure? You’re not the least a bit disappointed?”

Phichit hesitated, glancing at something to Seung-gil’s left. “A little, honestly. But at least try it, okay?”

Seung-gil nodded. He definitely didn’t want his friend’s efforts to go to waste. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until his mouth was so stuffed he couldn’t even compliment the food.

Phichit held his hand under Seung-gil’s chin. “Don’t eat too fast. You might choke.”

Seung-gil, in the midst of chewing, nodded. The meal was amazing. He almost wanted to eat the vegetables in it.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

Phichit grinned from ear-to-ear. “Is it good? Really good? I tried my best, so don’t break my heart…But tell me!”

“It’s amazing,” Seung-gil spoke finally after swallowing the last bit of rice. “If I could, I’d eat this every day.”

“Beats those frozen meals any day, huh?” Phichit wiggled an eyebrow.

“Definitely.” Seung-gil nodded again.

“Who’s the teddy bear from, by the way?” Phichit pointed at the stuffed animal on Seung-gil’s nightstand. It sat crookedly on the TV remote and the base of a lamp.

“A nurse gave it to me. She had a daughter who so happened to be a fan.”

Phichit’s eyes lit up. “That’s so sweet of her! It’s cool that you have nurses as fans!”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Seung-gil pushed the carrots on the plate around. Speaking of the nurse him of his guilt, which somehow reminded him of the doctor, which ultimately reminded him of Minso.

She might already know that Phichit had come over. How else would he have gotten to Seung-gil’s house without getting lost?

But what if she didn’t? Seung-gil could already imagine being reprimanded for bringing people to his apartment without permission. She might kick Phichit out after yelling in front of him.

His appetite had diminished.

“You okay? You still have a bite or two left.” Phichit spoke up. Only the vegetables were left to eat.

Seung-gil looked up. “Uh, yeah. Um, I don’t really like to eat vegetables. I’m not that hungry anymore.”

Phichit gave Seung-gil a puzzled look before ultimately nodding. “Alright.”

Phichit gestured towards the plate. Seung-gil nodded. Without another word, Phichit scooped up the plate and left the room.

Seung-gil could only stare at the bird perched. Its jewels seem to lose their glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for the support from the last chapter! 
> 
> I can't believe March passed by so fast. It's almost been a month since I've updated this fic! Again, I'm sorry about that. I've been pretty busy, with exams coming up and college stuff up ahead. (I'm graduating high school this year.) My mental health's taken a toll, too, so I've lost a lot of motivation. But I will still keep trying to update this! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Your support means so much! <3


	4. Heart Monitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit is here!  
> Seung-gil finds the comfort of a friend he never asked for, nor he knew he needed.  
> The turbulence begins.
> 
> NOTE: This chapter is written in both Phichit and Seung-gil's POV's!  
> 1st section: Phichit's POV  
> 2nd section: Seung-gil's POV  
> 3rd section: Phichit's POV
> 
> Sorry if I made this one confusing to read! I wanted to get some of Phichit's perspective in here!

Phichit stayed for the rest of the week. Those few days were filled with peaceful memories. 

At the crack of dawn, Phichit would awaken to rays of sunlight peeking over Seoul’s skyscrapers. He would then rise from the sofa, standing in the stillness of daybreak for a while. He would glide his foot gently over the cold floor, poking reflected rays with his toe. After deforming the light with the touch, he would drift towards the kitchen to begin preparations of the day’s meals.

Seung-gil was a very quiet, heavy sleeper. Phichit was only able to tell that he was awake was by the rustling of his sheets.

After Seung-gil had awoken, they would enjoy a quiet breakfast at the kitchen table. Seung-gil would then insist on jogging around the neighborhood, but Phichit convinced him to take it a bit slower. Although they went back-and-forth on the issue every day, they always eventually compromised on a fifteen-minute walk around the apartment complex instead.

The rest of the morning was then spent watching daytime dramas while lying on Seung-gil’s bed. Jae, Seung-gil’s dog, and resident gatekeeper didn’t seem too happy about being kicked off his usual spot on the bed, however. He instead slept on the floor, right beside Seung-gil’s side of the bed.

It was the second to last morning of Phichit’s stay in Seoul, and the second hour of their daily drama marathon. When deciding on the next one to watch, Phichit pointed out one that had left him in tears on his first viewing. Seung-gil refused to watch at first, saying that it was “unnecessarily cheesy,” though his opinion came from only watching the trailer. It took a bit of persuasion for Phichit to successfully convince Seung-gil to watch at least one episode before deciding if the show was worth continuing. 

…

As the credits rolled, about three minutes to speak without interrupting the show opened up as the commercials began belting their catchy tunes.

Phichit peered over at Seung-gil and asked if he had enjoyed it.

Seung-gil, silent in thought, smoothed over his cheek with a finger.

“I guess so.” He replied finally.

Phichit chuckled to himself, smiling knowingly. Seung-gil definitely loved it.

As he lied beside Seung-gil on the bed, with Jae draped over Seung-gil’s legs, Phichit relished the calmness in the room despite the bustling city blocks below, and the warmth of the tiny apartment in the midst of a bitterly cold winter. 

* * *

 Scenes of all types of catastrophes and miracles draped themselves over Seung-gil’s eyes. Conniving family members, a failed wedding, a fight scene that ends in the villain’s demise, and the happy ending of a final, flowery wedding.

The dramas served as a temporary escape for Seung-gil, as did most of his interests. With every thought about his next competition created, a new line of dialogue would reel him away from his worries and towards the fictional world on screen. But such an oasis was only temporary. He would occasionally be reminded of the calendar that hung on his wall near the window. Whenever he searched for the sun’s position, his eyes would unknowingly drift and lock onto the dates and events scribbled on the calendar. He was unable to control the shiver that crawled down his spine from the sight of it.

He wanted so badly to delete the countdown from his mind, to freeze time for just a few more minutes of serenity. Watching the seconds _tick_ and _tick_ and _tick_ away, with each flash of his digital clock’s colon, it became more and more difficult to be absorbed by the dramas. 

But those days spent on his bed, not wholly abiding by his set meal plan, smiling with Phichit, scrolling through comedy pages on Instagram, were the calmest days he had in a long while.

He didn’t want the laughter, the light banter, or the satisfaction of a meal to end.

And within that week of Phichit’s radiant presence, Seung-gil had actually believed that this would become his new reality.

And then she reclaimed her role. 

...

Phichit had just finished serving lunch. Seung-gil, trying to gain back his independence, insisted that he make his own food. Phichit refused to back down, however and ran out of the room before Seung-gil could stand up from the bed. That was where Phichit had the temporary advantage. He could easily slide out of the bed, whereas Seung-gil had to spend a great deal of his energy just trying to stand up, more so to stand _properly_.

Toast with hazelnut spread. A simple, yet delicious meal.

Seung-gil enjoyed folding his bites of bread over so that the spread was in between, like a sandwich. It made Phichit laugh, for some reason. He even called the habit “cute.”

A sudden, thundering bang at the door shot through the quaint atmosphere of the early afternoon. 

Seung-gil jumped, nearly knocking his elbow into his nightstand. Phichit held his breath, looking at Seung-gil with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“Who is that?” Phichit laughed uncomfortably after a brief silence.

Seung-gil knew it had to be Minso Park waiting outside of his apartment. No one else could harness the same ability to convey such command and power through a simple knock on the door.

“It’s my coach. I’ll get it.” Seung-gil shifted towards the edge of his bed.

“No, I’ll get it!” Phichit tapped Seung-gil gently on the shoulder, trying to push him back down while also being cautious of his injury. “You need to rest as much as possible.” He genuinely seemed worried, but Seung-gil simply shrugged.

“I can walk. Besides, if you were to show up at my door instead of me, things would turn out much worse.” Seung-gil stood up from the bed slowly, holding onto the edge of his nightstand for balance. He wished that this would prove his strength, but his body immediately wobbled as he placed both feet on the ground. His chest didn’t even hurt much now, but he couldn’t stand straight. His back was hunched over as if he had gotten punched in the gut.

“Why can’t you just tell Jae to open the door again?” Phichit asked. His skepticism was written all over his face.

“I can’t do that forever. It was a temporary solution for the whole “being bedridden” problem.”

Seung-gil hesitated before moving any further, wondering for a moment if Phichit was going to tackle him back onto the bed.

He didn’t. Phichit simply sighed and nodded, defeated for once.

Seung-gil returned the nod. He shuffled towards the door. 

The door banged again just as Seung-gil opened it. His coach, for once, was caught off guard. Her shocked face lasted for a half-second before returning to her regular scowl.

And it was with this scowl that Seung-gil realized that he was wearing only a bright red pair of gym shorts and a navy-blue sweater with the word “sweat” plastered on it. His hair was unkempt, tousled and stuck at odd angles from negligence. His entire presentation, according to societal standards, was absolutely horrific.

Minso spoke his name, her breath fogging up and dissipating inside of the apartment. Seung-gil could hear her immense disappointment with him with only those words. He looked up at her nose, slightly pink with flared nostrils.

“What is it?” Seung-gil asked, straightening his arched back. His side groaned in response.

The question came out more irritated than he had have hoped. 

She shook her head, lips pursed together. She asked him why he hadn’t shown up to practice, yet. He was twenty minutes late for his usual lesson. 

Seung-gil blinked. He was tempted to give her a look of annoyance, but the consequences of doing so kept his face intact.

He shuffled his brain for the memory of his doctor’s note. He recited it for her, as best as he could, word for word. Minso was unbothered by the information. She verbally tossed her own version of the note at him.

He could’ve sworn that the doctor had advised him to avoid skating at all for at least two weeks after his surgery. But Minso recalled that the probation would last for only one. According to her, it had been one week since his surgery. He needed to continue his training immediately. She justified her desperation for him to get back to the rink by stating the amount of time already wasted by his “inability to take care of himself.”  

Seung-gil didn’t have the note, of course. It was likely resting, possibly crumpled, at the bottom of Minso’s pocketbook, which she held tightly against her side. Nor did he have the courage to speak up for himself. He was too tired from previous attempts and lectures, too tired of being rejected, that he simply stopped arguing with Minso after a while.

Minso repeated that he was only prevented from skating for one week. She insisted that he at least change and come to the rink to observe.

But Seung-gil knew, feeling the bitter wind bite the skin of his legs, that he’d regret it. He attempted to focus on the view of his street behind her as he refused. A red SUV was moving away from the apartment complex’s parking lot. It skidded a bit, from driving onto a patch of ice. The car made a U-turn before heading out, somewhere away.

Seung-gil instinctively moved his neck so that his left ear was hidden when Minso’s voice raised in volume. She told him that he had to come with her right now. This was his career developing, after all. Every moment spent not improving was a moment wasted. Moping around “looking pretty” wasn’t going to put food on the table. Did he want his dreams to end up failing? She recounted articles that had reported his supporters’ disappointment after his last defeat.

Her hard work couldn’t be wasted on his talent, she continued. And his talent couldn’t be denied the ability to blossom. He simply needed to come with her, take his horrendous outfit if he really needed to.

Seung-gil wasn’t ready to return to her, or the skating world. He wanted to relax, for once.

But that thought frightened him. From the time he was young, Seung-gil was groomed to crave productivity, to always push himself to his limit to get what he wanted. Whether that was by staying at the skating rink, falling over and over again until the sun rose again, or by giving up his mother’s homemade pastries, it was all necessary to him. This was his life. This was routine. 

This was safe.

It felt safer to simply agree and go.

But Phichit-

He would be disappointed in Seung-gil for pushing himself like this. Even though he was used to practicing under pressure and under strain, even Seung-gil realized that this was a serious injury that couldn’t be taken lightly.

Lungs were the tools of breath, of life.

He found himself retreating slightly into his apartment as her barking raised yet again, her words becoming sharp bites, harsher than any winter wind. She cried that would end up as a failure like this. She had guided him through his last season of victories. Why couldn’t he just listen to her for once?

Blow after blow. Seung-gil wanted nothing more than to melt onto the carpet.

* * *

 Phichit couldn’t stand the noise. Even with the language barrier, he didn’t need to know Korean to understand the increasing tension between Seung-gil and Minso Park. 

Phichit knew nothing of their relationship. He had viewed her personal Instagram page a select number of times. She often posted pictures of the bouquets Seung-gil earned on her social media pages. 

She also kept a strict watch on him whenever he strayed from her side during competitions.

He was able to get a wave from Seung-gil once, at least. Albeit, that interaction happened with them being ten feet away from each other. Minso would give a brief nod of acknowledgment, then scurry Seung-gil along before Phichit could say anything more.

But this was something different. The tones of their voices just seemed _wrong_. The atmosphere was dreary, like a storm cloud was forming in the living room. It didn’t help that the open door lead a rush of winter air into the apartment.

Minso’s voice was rising, while Seung-gil’s was steadily growing more strained. Just listening to their conversation, it was hard to believe that Seung-gil could be speak so consistently blunt around others. The harshness of his voice felt forced now. It didn’t seem like Seung-gil was talking. This was another person entirely.

Phichit knew he couldn’t interfere. He didn’t even know what they were arguing about. Maybe Seung-gil did something wrong and was being reprimanded for his actions.

Then a loud, high-pitched yell echoed off the walls. Phichit shrank back. He glanced at Jae, who was alert and seemed ready to bark but was somehow restraining himself. It was as if he were being trained to not react to such a situation.

As if the yelling and arguing were normal.

Seung-gil’s next words were barely audible. Phichit closed his eyes, trying to focus his hearing as best as possible.

Seung-gil spoke something in Korean, one of the only words Phichit knew by heart.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice took on a tone Phichit never imagined was possible with someone as cool as Seung-gil.

Absolute fear.

Phichit couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t allow Seung-gil be yelled at so severely by his coach as if he had committed a crime. Phichit had been yelled at by his own coach, Celestino, plenty of times. But it never became so intense, and they always ended up hugging and apologizing.

He didn’t care that he was making baseless assumptions. He slid off Seung-gil’s bed as quickly as he could, praying that the mattress wouldn’t creak. He had a feeling that Minso’s senses were acute.

Thankfully, no noise was uttered by the bed. Phichit silently thanked it and crept across the carpet to the doorway. He felt like a criminal himself, hiding from Minso Park. He pulled out his phone. He stared at the lock screen for a moment, before swiping to reveal the camera app. He switched to video mode and began to record.

He kept still, as Minso’s voice grew became deafening. Surely, the neighbors would be concerned by now. Someone had to be calling the police, or the landlord at least- unless this was normal for them, too.

Phichit felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of such a thing.

He could feel Jae’s eyes on him, curious and somehow knowing. Phichit offered a weak smile at the dog. Jae kept pacing back and forth on the carpet.

Minso seemed to ask a question. A temporary silence. Seung-gil said something back, mentioning Jae’s name.

Phichit prayed that his stomach wouldn’t growl, or his voice wouldn’t make a strange noise as the seconds being recorded passed.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen. He quickly switched focus, back and forth, between the actual time and the recorded time.

The door slammed shut at the 3:21-minute mark.

Phichit leaned his head against the wall, exhausted from the eavesdropping. He wasn’t involved in the conversation, but even he felt the energy of the peaceful morning escape to the outside. 

He wanted time to think. But upon hearing Seung-gil slippers making their way back to the room, Phichit hid the phone in his pocket and stood up straight.

Seung-gil shuffled back into the room. His left arm was wrapped around his waist. His face seemed pained, but he didn’t say a word at first.

“What was that all about?” Phichit couldn’t help but blurt out. 

Seung-gil made eye-contact with him. He shook his head. “Nothing. There was just a little misunderstanding between my coach and me.”

Phichit’s eyes nearly watered from hearing such a lie. “A misunderstanding? That didn’t sound like _just_ a misunderstanding to me.”

“What did it sound like, then?” Seung-gil became defensive, giving Phichit a frustrated look.

“Like a really bad argument,” Phichit admitted. He paused before continuing. “Is there something wrong? You could tell me, you know!”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Seung-gil took a step forward and nearly lost his balance. Phichit leaped forward to catch him. Seung-gil didn’t say more as Phichit cautiously led him back to his bed.

“Are you sure?” Phichit asked again as he watched Seung-gil slip under his covers. “One hundred percent?”

Seung-gil nodded. “It’s all okay. Don’t worry about me.” Phichit could hear a slight shakiness in Seung-gil’s voice. He was definitely paler than when he had first left the room, too.

“I’ll get you some tea if that’s alright with you.” Phichit offered.

Seung-gil appeared to be puzzled by the offer but accepted it anyway. Phichit almost slammed into the wall from running into Seung-gil’s kitchen so quickly. He was an ace of the space at that point. He knew where Seung-gil kept all of his pots, pans, spices, and meal preps - and most importantly, his tea.

Seung-gil had a wide variety of tea, a mixture of classic and unusual flavors. Phichit chose to make chamomile tea for the both of them. He assumed that they needed something to calm their nerves, whether Seung-gil admitted it or not.

As he brewed the tea using one of those fancy machines, Phichit couldn’t stop thinking about Minso Park. Was he making her out to be a villain? What if his mind was simply over exaggerating the events?

He didn’t have any evidence, other than personal experience and the observed coldness she showed towards other coaches and their competitors…

…And the video.

Oh, god.

Had he really just invaded both Seung-gil’s and Minso Park’s privacies like that?

He needed to delete the video from his phone. As well as from his mind. It wasn’t right. He couldn’t keep something that he had no business of recording.

Phichit took out his phone from his pocket again. He opened the photo app and stared at the video. He pressed on the thumbnail, and the video blew up in size.

Three minutes and twenty-one seconds of evidence.

Evidence of what, though? Of an argument? How could he use this at all?

But a thought tugging at the back of his mind told him not to touch it and leave it on his phone for now.

It had to be important for _something_.

That train of thought only served to make Phichit feel even more uneasy about the whole situation, as well as more impatient for the tea. He tucked away his phone. He wouldn’t be able to tell Seung-gil about this.

As soon as the machine quit with its whirring noises, Phichit poured the tea into two mugs.

He felt incredibly guilty. 

And right when he was about to leave the kitchen, he heard a loud groan from the bedroom. Phichit sprinted, the tea spilling over the mugs and onto both the hardwood and carpet floors. 

Seung-gil was holding his elbow as he muttered to himself angrily.

“What happened?” Phichit rushed closer, eyeing Seung-gil from where he stood. “Did something happen? What’s the number for the hospital?”

“I just hit my elbow on the damn nightstand.”

Phichit gave a small sigh of relief. “Were you trying to show it who was boss?”

Seung-gil smiled. “No, I just wanted to hold the bird in my hands again.”

“Oh,” Phichit let out a sigh of relief. He peered down at the half-empty mugs in his hands. “Here’s the tea! I made some for myself, too.” He handed over one of the mugs to Seung-gil who quietly thanked him despite the stickiness from the spills.

Seung-gil took a sip without even waiting for the tea to cool. He was obviously anxious for something warm to hold, something to take his mind off of what happened.

“Listen, about earlier,” Phichit began again.

“Can we please not talk about my coach?” Seung-gil had his eyes closed shut, his face looking even more pained. It may have been the piping hot tea. Or maybe it was the discomfort he felt when talking about Minso Park.

Phichit realized, then, that he was being way too nosy. He needed to lay off Seung-gil and not push his buttons so easily, even if he wanted to know the details of the situation so badly.

They had confirmed their friendship only a few days prior. Phichit didn’t want Seung-gil to regret his decision.

“Sorry, I’ll drop it.” Phichit smoothed his pants over with his free hand. “I have a bad habit of being nosy.” He offered a small smile towards Seung-gil. But Seung-gil’s eyes were still closed. A chill seemed to overcome the bedridden man, for his shoulders suddenly tensed and shivered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Phichit touched Seung-gil’s arm lightly, which reflexively moved away. Phichit moved his hand away, too.

God, he was crossing way too many lines. “I think I should leave for a bit.” He looked behind him. The tea had already formed stains on the perfectly off-white carpet.

Seung-gil’s eyes snapped open. “No, it’s fine. And I’m okay. Really,” He smiled again, though his eyes seemed tired and lost. “I’m just stressed.” 

“About what?” Phichit asked.

“…My programs.” Seung-gil said. “I haven’t practiced my routine for my short program much, and I have nothing decided for my free skate.”

Phichit physically cringed. “Yikes.” He sympathized. “And have you talked about it with, um, _her_?”

Seung-gil looked away. “Not exactly. I don’t…I don’t really handle those things primarily.”

An “Oh,” was all Phichit could manage to murmur. His voice trailed off, trying to keep down all of the questions gathering in his throat.

_Stop assuming._

Seung-gil was gazing at the bejeweled bird again. He met Phichit’s gaze.

“The bird is truly beautiful. I can’t stop staring at it.”

“Really?” Phichit perked up. “I can’t tell.” He stuck out his tongue at an attempt to be playful again.

“It gives me something else to stare at when we’re not doing anything else.” Seung-gil continued seriously, which made Phichit mentally swear at himself.

The bird really did mean something to Seung-gil.

Phichit was glad to bring him a source of joy, and a source of color in the otherwise plain décor.

He tried to send as many positive thoughts to the bird, staring at it intensely. He wanted the bird to encapsulate them, repeating them back to Seung-gil whenever he gazed into the jewels to escape.

It was quite cloudy.

But as the next peek of sunshine reached out, shining onto the nightstand, the bird awoke, ready to rustle its bejeweled wings and take flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you again for supporting this fic, and for supporting me, too! I am so thankful for the encouragement I've received. You all are so kind. ToT  
> I've been anticipating writing this chapter for so long. It's definitely taken a long time to write it all out, but it's finally done!  
> Most of my major exams are over (Curse you, AP...) and school is coming to a close, so hopefully there won't be as big as a gap between chapters next time!  
> Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy it! There's more to come!


	5. Hasty Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seung-gil makes his return to the rink, the expectations of his peers and his coach weighing him down with every step. But there's still some good to life, like dogs and video chatting.

Seung-gil was back at the rink a week after Phichit had left. 

Seung-gil couldn’t understand why his eyes watered upon seeing his friend wave goodbye and board his plane. It must have been the air quality in the building that day. But his eyes continued to water even after he left the airport. 

His stomach growled.

His meal preps were no longer satisfying after he had been introduced to Phichit’s cooking skills. Seung-gil had eaten the leftovers within the span of two days. Since then, his stomach would rumble even after he ate, as it was doing now. He tried to look up variants of Phichit’s recipes to cook them himself, but after many instances of having to clear out smoke from his kitchen and being yelled at by his neighbors, he gave up.

Minso was waiting for him.

He winced, though not from the feeling that his skates were squeezing his toes together. Rather, it was a sudden wave of embarrassment, him remembering that Phichit was present during the argument between him and Minso. There was no doubt that Phichit would question it and prod him for answers.

Seung-gil sighed. He had lied to Phichit, but it was best for the both of them that he kept things concealed. He needed to protect himself before anything. And plus, the lie was only a mere exaggerated. He _did_ tell Phichit that there was a disagreement.

But still, a pang of pain in his stomach reminded him of Phichit’s face afterward. Hurt? Disappointment? Seung-gil couldn’t tell.

What went well was that he managed to convince Minso to let him rest for a few more days, at least. It wasn’t the two weeks that the doctor had directed, but any compromise was a miracle. And for that, he was grateful.

Minso could really be kind when she wanted. She had paid for his hospital bills, for the surgery and all. She had done many kind things for him over the years.

He tied his skates slowly, lifting his head to gaze at his fellow skaters gliding across the ice. They were chatting lightheartedly, laughing and showing each other new things they had learned.

A lot of smiling.

They spun, twirled, and even raced each other (those were the younger kids). Seung-gil wondered if they had anxiously been awaiting his return or if they were glad to have the main rink to themselves for once.

He felt an immense weight on his shoulders as stood up from his crouched position, wobbling on his first step. He lifted his chin as he moved towards the rink’s barrier more steadily. His confidence returned to him as his hands held the door that let skaters in-and-out.

All activity on the ice ceased. The children stopped racing, bumping into one another like dominos. The first one of the bunch fell onto his knees but didn’t complain. He simply turned his head towards Seung-gil, unable to keep his mouth closed. Their eyes were all on Seung-gil.

Minso shouted out his name. His head snapped towards the direction of her voice. She was seated on the other side of the rink, clapping her hands, the corners of her lips turned to form what appeared to be a smile. The rest of the skaters followed suit, clapping and whooping loudly. Seung-gil managed to wave at everyone, finally stepping onto the ice. Immediately, several skaters around his age swooped closer to him, expressing their condolences about his injury and cheering him on for the next competition. One skater moved their hand to pat his shoulder, decided against it when they both made eye contact. Seung-gil nodded, acknowledged them, then stepped away. He began skating around the perimeter of the rink, trying to think and stall his practice session.

On his third run, Minso stepped down from the bleachers and met him at the swing-door. She told him to quit messing around and get started with rehearsing his short program. Seung-gil nodded. Minso told the others to move to the smaller rinks, barking orders like a sergeant. As they filed out, murmuring complaints and then being told off by Minso, Seung-gil took a deep breath. His hands unconsciously touched his right side, searching for the scar from the surgery. His surge of confidence was already fading, dissipating alongside his breaths on the ice. He was hesitant to fully immerse himself into the routine.

But these feelings would get him nowhere.

Minso sighed audibly as the metal door closed with a loud _bang_. Seung-gil’s head jerked slightly at the sound. Minso walked over to the music player and speakers set near the rink and inserted a CD. Seung-gil moved towards the center of the rink, taking a few more deep breaths. He lifted his head, extended his left hand outwards, and placed his right hand on his shoulder.

The first note played. The music began to echo around the room. Seung-gil took his first stride of the routine, forgetting about his surgery, his pain, his coach staring him down at the other end. In his mind appeared only numbers, a guide to how many points each move would earn him, how many points were needed to beat his record last time, how fast he should turn to avoid falling over.

A minute into the routine, Seung-gil was taking deeper breaths than usual. He knew that wasn’t a very good sign, but he continued on.

He picked up speed. He did a few jumps, a step sequence, some more gliding across the ice. He was usually satisfied by the sound of the ice being etched on by his skates, but something felt wrong.

Seung-gil shook off the thought. The quadruple loop was next.

He seemed to pull off the move perfectly, at first. His counted his rotations. He jumped with just the right momentum. The landing was what ruined it.

Black dots danced across Seung-gil’s vision, accompanied by dizziness.

The ground warped underneath him.

Where were his feet going? He couldn’t see-

His foot gave away under him and he fell forward. His elbows hit the ice first, his forehead afterward.  

He heard Minso run over, her heels clicking harshly on the floor. She asked him if he was alright, then told him to get up without giving him a chance to respond.

Sweat was sliding down Seung-gil forehead. He turned his head away from Minso, coughing and shaking his head. He pressed his hands to his forehead in an attempt to decrease the dizziness and nausea that was plaguing him. He couldn’t believe that he pushed himself to his limit already. The music was still playing. There were thirty seconds left in the routine. 

Seung-gil lied on the ground, eyes open but unfocused. 

Eventually, the last note faded. Seung-gil sat up, not caring that the ice was uncomfortable underneath him. His mind was blank. He held his hand over his chest. His lungs were burning. His side felt as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. 

God, he just wanted to go home.

Minso asked him if he remembered was he was preparing for. Seung-gil looked at her soft, brown, now-flat curls. He was drawing a blank.

“The Grand Prix Final?” He answered, unsure, able to speak again.

Minso groaned loudly. She asked him if he forgot about Pyeongchang.  

“No.” Seung-gil murmured. “Of course not.”

The Pyeongchang Winter Olympics.

Shit.

_Shit._

He had completely forgotten about that. Even with the constant reminders on his phone, the countdown on his computer, and the speeches Minso would give him, he forgot. (Those speeches he usually drowned out.)

It was in the midst of one of their first meetings that Minso first expressed her dream of taking Seung-gil to Olympics. She had been invited by Seung-gil’s mother to eat with them that night. Between bites of food, Minso assured both mother and son that she’d be willing to work with Seung-gil to reach his greatest potential. Back then, Seung-gil was amazed at her boldness. He smiled, bright-eyed and naïve, as she continued on. She told him that he needed to work extremely hard, but had much potential. She also said that he needed to listen more, laughing at the end.

He always needed to listen more. Seung-gil used to laugh, too, whenever she told him that. It used to be a joke between the two of them when his airheadedness was “adorable” and not at all a problem. 

He was nowhere near ready for the Olympics. He only had a year to prepare from now. This lung collapse had only added insult to injury, quite literally.

His performance at the Rostelecom Cup was disgraceful. Even Phichit’s encouragement couldn’t erase the disappointment he felt not only within himself but from others as well. Minso had ranted at Seung-gil for nearly an hour, pacing back-and-forth, pointing every mistake and how much he needed to listen to her. She had mentioned Pyeongchang that time, too.

Minso said his name sharply. Seung-gil could feel her gaze as he struggled to lift himself from the ground. He straightened his back.

“One more time.” He told her. Minso nodded. She was pleased. 

…

Seung-gil returned home later that afternoon, much earlier than usual. Minso had to stop him from practicing after he had spent more than five minutes wheezing on the ice.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and shook off the snow on his sneakers. He slipped them off and went to close the door. As he did so, his foot knocked against a package. If it was painful, he wouldn’t have noticed. The only thing he could physically feel was a chill from outside and his side screaming in pain. He peered down at the package, a cardboard box, picking it up slowly and making his way to the sofa. He willingly fell onto it, exhaustion beginning to settle in. His muscles groaned. He groaned in response.  

Jae ran into the living room and jumped onto the sofa. Seung-gil smiled as he buried his face into Jae’s coat of fur, rubbing his back affectionately. Jae licked his face and Seung-gil let out a small laugh.

Jae quickly jumped off of the sofa and ran off into his bedroom. Seung-gil decided to use this fleetingly free moment to delve into the package. He scanned the label on the outside. It was from an online store. His smile grew wider.

He used his nails to rip apart the tape on the box and immediately scoured through its contents for the order details. He searched for a name. His finger glided across the paper until he found it.  

Sun-young Lee.

Seung-gil’s mother’s name was typed out along with the billing address. He knew it. She had bought new clothes for him. No one else bothered to send him packages. Well, except for the occasional overly-enthusiastic and sometimes frightening fan who somehow managed to find his address.

Seung-gil didn’t want to look at the price. He would feel guilty. And seeing that the clothes were neatly wrapped, he suspected that the package was filled with items more expensive than what he’d have chosen for himself.

He pulled each wrapped item out of the box. Its contents included a red sweatshirt, a pair of gray sweatpants, and two T-shirts with English words printed onto them. On one, “Fear” was written in all caps and italics. On the other, “2 seconds of screen time” was plastered in black Arial font. He stared at the second one for a while longer. For some reason, those words annoyed him.

Jae finally returned. Seung-gil turned his attention away from the pile of clothes balancing on his lap. There was a tennis ball dripped with drool in Jae’s mouth. Seung-gil smiled at him, wanting to play, but also wanting to sleep for a millennium. Jae dropped the tennis ball into Seung-gil’s outstretched hand. Seung-gil tossed the tennis ball, and it flew straight into the wall. He was surprised by how strong his throw was, then annoyed by the pain that surged from his arm.

The ball bounced off and hit his laptop, which was sitting on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Seung-gil swore loudly, reaching for his device as Jae fetched the ball.

“Sorry,” Seung-gil apologized to Jae, who simply turned around and placed the ball onto the table.

“Not on the table, please?” Seung-gil reasoned. He pointed at the tennis ball, then at the floor. Jae obediently followed his instruction.

Seung-gil looked at his phone.

1:15.

He had nearly forgotten this, too. And this he had looked forward to with anticipation for days.

He was late, but hopefully, Phichit would understand. He quickly logged onto his laptop, anxiously tapping his fingers against the keys lightly as Skype opened up.

He had five messages waiting for him. 

“I’m ready for our call!”

“Are you here?” 

“Are you at practice?”

“Maybe at the store…”

“Anyway, I’m ready when you are!” 

They were all sent between 1:00 and 1:01.

Seung-gil quickly typed in a response. 

“I’m ready now. I’m sorry for being late.”

Phichit was already typing another message.

“Are u okay???”

A silence. Then, the typing chat bubble appeared again. 

“Okay! :]” 

Phichit was the one to initiate the call. Seung-gil was suddenly nervous. This would be their first time video chatting. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him. They had met several times before. Phichit even _came_ to this very apartment! They chatted, laughed, ate, and even watched dramas together! Then again, that whole week did feel like a dream and was soon to be a distant memory.

Phichit’s face, in surprisingly high definition quality, appeared on Seung-gil’s screen. Seung-gil already felt inadequate.

“Your face looks so clear.” He observed quietly.

“Really?” Phichit’s eyes widened. “I’ve been using this new peel-off mask recently, so that might be it hopefully! At first, I used it every day but then it gave me a bit of an allergic reaction, so I’ve started using it sparingly throughout this week…It seems to be working better!”

Seung-gil could feel sudden heat rise to his cheeks. “I…I meant that your webcam quality is really good.”

Phichit paused. “Oh….” His face lit up with understanding. “Oh! I bought a 12-megapixel webcam when I visited Japan this past summer! It has a really cute pattern! I’d show it to you now, but if I move it from where it’s sitting right now, it’ll stop working! I’m planning on using it to livestream stuff!”

Seung-gil nodded. “That’s cool. While you were there, did you visit…uh…Yuuri Katsuki?”

Phichit nodded furiously this time. “Yep! It was super fun! Victor was there, too! You know Victor Nikiforov, right?” 

Seung-gil felt even more heat rise to his face. He just made himself look like an idiot. Phichit was likely thinking that Seung-gil didn’t even know the names of his fellow competitors.

“Of course, I know. I just…uh…” He trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

“It’s fine!” Phichit giggled. “Anyway, how have you been?”

Seung-gil showed a hint of a smile, partly relieved, partly glad to hear Phichit’s laugh. “I’m still recovering, but I’m much better. I’ve gone back to the rink.”

“Already?” Phichit gasped.

“The doctor said I only needed to rest for a week.” The lie emerged from Seung-gil’s mouth before he could think twice about it. “I’m sure it’s alright.”

“Is that really enough time? A collapsed lung is serious!” Phichit countered.

“I’ve only been doing light skating. Nothing near my usual level of work.” More lies.

“As long as you’re not pushing yourself too hard, I guess you’ll be okay.”

Seung-gil nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

A pause. Seung-gil spoke again.

“But really, is it so bad if I were to practice my routines again?”

Phichit’s face showed pure confusion. “What do you mean? You know that pushing yourself too much will lead to your injury becoming worse, right?”

Seung-gil scratched the side of his face. “I know that. I just…” He thought a bit more. “I feel like pushing yourself to your limit is the only way to really improve.”

“Well, I get that!” Phichit agreed. “But you’re injured! This is a completely different situation!”

“The likelihood of my lung collapsing again is about 50%. Those who experience a lung collapse are more than likely to experience it again.” Seung-gil responded. “I might as well do what I can.”

Seung-gil could see that Phichit was at a loss for words. His mouth was left open, his eyes were looking everywhere except for at Seung-gil. 

“I mean, I’m not willing to risk it all. I’m just. I don’t know.” Seung-gil said quickly, shaking his head. 

“You promise not to go too far? I know practicing is important, but your health must always be a top priority.”

Seung-gil looked away for a split second. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie to Phichit anymore. But he needed to practice. He couldn’t stay cooped up in bed anymore. Pyeongchang was looming closer. The other competitions were quickly approaching.

He looked back, staring at where Phichit’s mouth sore had once been. “I promise.” He couldn’t meet Phichit’s hopeful eyes.

Phichit grinned. “I’m glad! Remember that promise! Don’t make me go to Seoul again!”

“Would that really be such a bad thing?” Seung-gil asked.

Phichit was speechless again, for a moment, but this pause felt lighter. “N-No! It’s not! Definitely not! I’d come over anytime if I could!" 

“Really?” Seung-gil raised an eyebrow.

“Really!” Phichit nodded. 

“That makes me…” Seung-gil tried to think of the right word. “…That makes me really happy.”

“I’ll come back to see you soon! But until then, there’s the next competition to look forward to! I’m so glad we’ll both be there!” 

Seung-gil nodded. He would have to practice very hard to compensate for the lost time being in the hospital and recovering from the surgery. He needed to push himself to the limit, but not too much that he lost control. It would be a difficult balance, but he was determined to be eligible and prepared. The anxiety from that morning seemed to disappear for a bit. He wanted to see Phichit again, in front of him, and not through a screen.

 “Have you been making progress with your free skate, by the way?”

“Yes. We’ve already decided on the musical piece and I’ve started to get ideas for the choreography.” 

“Like what?” Phichit leaned close to the screen. “Tell me!”

“That’s a surprise.” Seung-gil smiled mischievously.

“Aw, come on!” Phichit whined. He pouted, which made Seung-gil let out a chuckle.

“Fine, I’ll be able to give you a small hint. Remember the present that you gave me.”

 Phichit clapped his hand over his mouth, gasping in shock.

“Really?!” He looked ready to cry. “The bird?”

“Is it a good idea?”

Phichit nodded furiously. “Of course! Of course, it is! Oh my god, you’re going to look so good! It’s going to be so good!” 

Seung-gil glanced away from the camera, hiding his mouth with his hand. “I’m glad you think so. I just hope others think so too.”

And with that comment, Phichit’s smile sank.

“I’m sure everyone will love it! Just like how they loved your short program last year!” 

“I guess.” Seung-gil spoke more quietly. “Not everyone liked it though. Not everyone approved of it.” 

“Well, forget those people! What matters is how _you_ feel!”

“But it’s important to meet expectations.”

“Seung-gil.” Phichit said, voice becoming stern. “You need to take your own desires into consideration more.” 

“Alright, alright.” Seung-gil sighed. He stretched his arms out toward the screen, yawning a bit.

“Are you tired?” Phichit asked. He squinted his eyes slightly.

“Yeah. Even doing small amounts of skating is enough to tire me out.” Seung-gil offered a weak smile.

“Oh, and what happened to your arms?” Phichit tilted his head to see closer. Seung-gil looked down and saw that two bruises were forming on both of his elbows.

_Shit._  

“I fell over.” Seung-gil swallowed roughly. “I tripped over my skates while getting out of the rink.”

“That’s pretty clumsy of you! Be more careful!” Phichit scolded.

“I’ll try.” Seung-gil could feel sweat build on his palms. “Well, um, I should take a nap. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

 “Yes, definitely! I miss you!” Phichit shouted. 

Seung-gil was hoping his face wasn’t bright red. “I miss you, too. Good bye.”

Phichit let a small giggle escape. “See you!" 

Seung-gil smiled weakly before leaning over towards the screen. Phichit’s image froze for a second before it was replaced by a black screen. As he shut down the laptop, Seung-gil immediately felt guilty for lying to Phichit. He’d probably get exposed one way or another.

But before he could really think everything over again, his eyes shut for a few seconds, then for a minute, then for hours. He woke up groggily, the guilt having disappeared with sleep. 

He walked over to the window in the living room, overlooking the city below. The sun was setting. Tomorrow he’d have to go to the rink again and skate until he felt as if his heart would give out.

He supposed it was all just a part of the sport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo! Finally, another chapter! I'm sorry for the long wait! I thought I'd be able to get this chapter done in no-time, but things didn't go according to plan...such is life. On the bright side, I finally graduated high school! 
> 
> Competition season begins next chapter! And things will get even more troubling from there... 
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
